


what a pity you don't understand

by thewalrus_said



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 21:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10370235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: So that’s what it is, Mickey thought, gaping at Emil. He had not only seen the video, he was taking Mickey up on his drunken ramblings. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he think that Mickey would actually audition him for Sara? Did he see Sara as a possession, something less than that Mickey could just -Mickey stopped his thoughts in his tracks. Spiraling like this would get him nowhere. Emil was looking at him hopefully, fingers dancing on the table. He seems so normal, Mickey thought. Not like a creep at all. But only a creep would think this is an okay thing to do. There was only one thing for it, Mickey decided. He would have to learn more about Emil. “When?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't so much a 10 Things I Hate About You AU, as it is an idea that met that movie at a bar and stole its earrings. Unbetaed and unregretted.

Mickey gave up. He shoved his books back into his bag and left the library, the sniggers of his peers fading as the door shut behind him. The librarian gave him a pitying look. He ignored her.

It was all that damn video’s fault. It had been two years ago, and still, every few months, someone would dig it up again, send it around, and life would become hell for a few weeks. But it would only be a few weeks. Mickey would call his therapist once a day, avoid Sara like the plague, and then it would pass. He only had one year left before graduation anyway, and then he could leave for somewhere he wasn’t _that creepy overprotective brother, what’s his deal anyway?_

Was it overprotective to want to make sure his sister was safe and happy? His _twin_ sister? Sure, getting drunk and loudly shouting that any man who wanted to date her would have to go out with Mickey first was probably over the top, but what good was bisexuality if he couldn’t keep scrubs out of Sara’s life?

Mickey ducked behind the dining hall and put his head in his hands. _My sister is not a part of me, and I am not a part of my sister_ , he thought, remembering the mantra he’d come up with at therapy. _We are both discrete individuals. Her happiness and my happiness are not linked. I am whole on my own._

He went through the mantra twice more before rubbing his face with his hands and standing up. He made his way back to his dorm room, once more thanking the housing gods for his single. Or maybe the dean had noticed the repetitive cycle of teasing and took pity on him.

Mickey napped until six, when a familiar hammering on his door made him blink and sit up. “I’m not hungry!” he shouted.

“Tough!” came Mila’s answer. “You’re coming to dinner anyway.”

He stood and opened the door a crack. “The video’s going around again. I’m going to wait it out on cup noodles and takeout.”

“No, you’re not,” Mila said, shoving the door open with a force that surprised Mickey every time. “Sara’s sick of you ignoring her every time this happens, and so am I. Now put your shoes on, it’s Taco Night.”

Taco Night, and Mila’s stern face, were enough to get Mickey’s shoes on and make him trail behind her to the dining hall. He almost turned back at the door, but she grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the table where Sara was sitting with someone Mickey didn’t recognize.

“Look who I found,” Mila announced, releasing his wrist only to shove him by the shoulder into a seat. “Emil, this is Mickey, Sara’s brother. Mickey, Emil. He just transferred here. Make nice while I get food.”

“Don’t I get to get food?” Mickey asked, since her hand was still tight on his shoulder.

“No, because you’ll slip away in the crowd. I’ll bring you a tray. Make nice,” she repeated and walked away.

“No sour cream!” Mickey shouted after her, and then put his face on the table and groaned.

Sara poked him in the forehead with the blunt end of her fork. “Wake up. You’re being rude to our guest.”

“I’m giving him an accurate first impression. I’m always rude.” Nonetheless, Mickey picked himself up and nodded to the stranger. Emil. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Emil was grinning at him, which made Mickey want to frown harder. He gave into the impulse, and Emil said, “Rough day?”

“You have no idea,” Mickey answered.

“But we’re not talking about Mickey’s incredibly boring problems,” Sara cut in. “We’re learning about our new friend Emil, who was just in the middle of telling me about motocross. Do go on, Emil.”

Emil was a very animated speaker, Mickey noticed, watching them talk. He used his hands a lot, and his stupid facial hair looked better in motion, and he quickly gave up on trying to include Mickey in the conversation and turned to face Sara more fully, so he had good social instincts. Mickey didn’t notice Mila’s return until she slid a tray in front of him, laden with tacos.

“Is there sour cream on this?” Mickey asked, poking at a taco tentatively.

“No,” Mila said, “there is no sour cream. I’m not a monster.”

“Debatable,” Mickey muttered, shoving the taco in his mouth. Emil grinned at him.

If pressed, Mickey would have bet on Emil lasting a week before being scared away by Mickey’s grumpiness or Sara’s temper, but he wouldn’t go away. He and Sara were in two classes together, it turned out, and he was always at meals with her and Mila, and he kept finding Mickey in the library to study together. He _had_ to have seen the video by now; someone had reuploaded it to Facebook and it had spread like wildfire before Mickey had managed to get it taken down. Why the hell was Emil still around?

Mickey got his answer two months after Emil’s arrival, while he was beating his head against the impenetrable wall of his Statistics 241 homework and Emil was folding origami cranes. “If you don’t have work to do, can you stop rubbing it in my face and at least pretend?” Mickey finally snapped.

“Huh?” Emil asked, looking up from his folding. “Oh, this is for class. Art project.”

“An art project?” Mickey asked. “What, like the thousand-cranes thing? I think that’s been done.”

Emil chuckled. “No, I’m making a bunch in different colors and I’m going to make a mosaic out of them.”

“A mosaic of what?”

“A crane.” Emil winked. Mickey snorted despite himself and went back to his data set. After a few minutes, Emil coughed, awkwardly enough that Mickey looked up again. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Emil said, folding the second wing of his current crane down and setting it aside. “Do you maybe want to go out with me sometime? On a date?”

 _So that’s what it is_ , Mickey thought, gaping at Emil. He had not only seen the video, he was _taking Mickey up on his drunken ramblings_. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he think that Mickey would actually audition him for Sara? Did he see Sara as a possession, something _less than_ that Mickey could just -

Mickey stopped his thoughts in his tracks. Spiraling like this would get him nowhere. Emil was looking at him hopefully, fingers dancing on the table. _He seems so normal_ , Mickey thought. _Not like a creep at all. But only a creep would think this is an okay thing to do_. There was only one thing for it, Mickey decided. He would have to learn more about Emil. “When?”

Emil beamed. “Saturday? The lacrosse team has a workout in the morning, but I’m free all afternoon.”

“What sort of date takes all afternoon?” Mickey asked.

Emil winked. “You’ll see. Wear sneakers. I’ll pick you up at two.”

“Great,” Mickey mouthed at his homework.

Two o’clock on Saturday came, and Mickey began to regret his life choices. “I am not getting on that,” Mickey said, over the purr of the motorcycle’s engine.

“Come on,” Emil said. “I’m a safe driver! It’s a beautiful day! And we’re not going far.” He held the second helmet out to Mickey, shaking it slightly. “Come on,” he repeated.

Mickey eyed the motorcycle. “How far is ‘not far’?”

“Twenty minutes,” Emil promised. “Tops.” Mickey relented, reaching out for the helmet, and Emil let out a whoop.

Exactly seventeen minutes later, the motorcycle engine stopped roaring and Mickey handed his helmet back to Emil. “Not bad, eh?” Emil asked, locking both helmets in the box on the back of the bike.

“It wasn’t terrible,” Mickey allowed. “Where are we?”

“Follow me,” Emil said, and headed towards the building at the edge of the parking lot.

It was laser tag, Mickey realized as they walked in. There was a fully functional laser tag arena twenty minutes from campus and he had never realized. “How did I not know about this?” he said aloud.

“Seems like most people stop at the mall when they come this way, as far as I can tell,” Emil said. “One of my teammates clued me in. Great, isn’t it?”

It _was_ great. Emil insisted on paying, which the part of Mickey he wasn’t proud of appreciated, and before long they were in a dark room, Mickey calling on every strategic video game he had ever played and wiping the floor with Emil.

“You’re good at that!” Emil said, once their time was up and they had returned their guns and armor. “Have you played before?”

Mickey shook his head. “A lot of video games, and some marksmanship practice as a kid.” Sara had been better than him, but Emil didn’t have to know that.

“You’ve got the killer instinct. I’ve never lost that badly.” Emil was grinning as he said it. “I’m starving. Dinner?”

“It’s four.”

“Nothing wrong with an early dinner,” Emil said. “Come on, we’re off campus. Let’s eat something that isn’t dining hall food.”

“Fine,” Mickey said. “But I’m paying.”

“We’ll call this date two, then.” Emil winked, handing Mickey a helmet. Mickey strapped it on with more force than was strictly necessary, ignoring the blush he felt on the back of his neck.

Emil took his cheeseburgers with ketchup and extra pickles, which was a point in his favor as far as Mickey was concerned. But this wasn’t about Mickey, it was about making sure Emil was okay for Sara. “My sister hates pickles,” Mickey noted.

Emil nodded and swallowed his mouthful before saying, “I know. She always gives me hers when the box lunches come with them.”

Damn. So that was fine, then. Mickey dipped a french fry in barbecue sauce and tried not to think about why he was disappointed.

Three days later, Emil texted him. _Coffee? My treat._ Mickey frowned at his phone for a solid five minutes before responding in the affirmative. Emil hadn’t said anything about Sara at the end of their date, but he’d seen them dancing at a party on Sunday night, so Emil was definitely still interested in her, and therefore Mickey was duty-bound to make sure he wasn’t a misogynist. Since Emil was handing him the opportunity and all.

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Emil,” Mila pointed out a month later, sliding in next to him at the dining hall. “Like, an awful lot. Like, more than you’ve been spending with me and Sara.”

“I’m trying to figure him out,” Mickey said, slapping her hand away from the small pile of snickerdoodles on the edge of his plate. “I can’t figure out what he wants.”

Mila snorted. “I think what he wants is pretty clear, bucko.”

“Mmm.” Mickey privately agreed; Emil and Sara were spending even more time together, around all the time Emil was spending with Mickey, but he still hadn’t said anything about asking her out. “Something doesn’t make sense, though.”

“What doesn’t make sense is the amount of cookies you have.” Mila managed to snag one before he could stop her. “Sharing is caring.”

“I don’t care, though.”

“Sure.” She patted his head and went to get her own tray of food.

Mickey was still thinking about it the next morning, when his phone rang. “Mickey,” Emil said, breathless, when he picked up. “I went out for an early walk and I found the most incredible view, you have to come see it. Can you?”

Emil gave him directions through the woods next to campus, and only hung up when Mickey spotted him up ahead, sitting on a broken-down brick wall. He waved and gave Mickey a hand up onto the wall. “Isn’t it great?”

Mickey looked, and instinctively clutched at the wall. There was an _incredible_ drop on the other side of the wall, just straight down for a good forty feet. Emil noticed and looped an arm around his shoulders to steady him. “Oh no, are you afraid of heights? I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“No, I’m not,” Mickey said. “It just took me by surprise.” He blinked and looked away from the hillside, taking in the view Emil had mentioned. “Wow.” There was a huge clearing below them, with an honest-to-god brook bubbling away along one side, and the grass was long and lush and green.

“Look.” Emil pointed with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Mickey’s shoulder, and Mickey could see the faint motion of a deer in the trees at the far edge. “There’s a family living there, I think.”

“How did you find this?”

“Like I said, I went for a morning walk and wanted a rest, so I climbed up here and found it. It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

“Crazy,” Mickey repeated, and then looked at Emil. The sun was just cresting over the treeline, and it played across Emil’s hair in a way that made Mickey’s stomach swoop. “Shit,” Mickey said, and then jumped off the wall back onto the path. “ _Shit_ ,” he repeated, bending over with his hands on his thighs.

He hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t thought this through _at all_. It was time to stop. Past time.

Mickey felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Emil frowning down at him. “You okay, Mickey?” Emil said. “It’s okay if you’re scared of heights, I really should have checked first.”

“It’s not that.” Mickey took another second to breathe and then straightened up, shaking Emil’s hand off his shoulder. “It’s great. You’re a great guy.” Emil still looked concerned, but his mouth lifted up in a half-smile at the compliment. “You should ask out Sara now. Today.” The sooner the better. Then Mickey could hide in his room and let Mila laugh at him until the end of time.

The smile dropped off Emil’s face. “Why - what?” He took a step back. “Why would I ask out Sara?”

It was Mickey’s turn to frown. “That’s what all this has been about, right? Getting my approval to date Sara?”

“What the hell, Mickey?” Emil stepped forward again. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“The video!” Mickey snapped. “You’ve seen the video, I _know_ you have, you came right in the middle of the cycle -”

“Wait, wait.” Emil held up a hand. “You mean that stupid viral thing that was going around when I transferred here?”

Mickey nodded. “I got super drunk two years ago and started shouting that anyone who wanted to date Sara had to date me first, so I could make sure they were good enough for her.”

Emil blinked. “Mickey. That’s so-”

“I know!” Mickey shouted. “I know! But then you were the one who actually took me up on it, so I had to make sure _you_ weren’t a misogynistic creep!”

“I didn’t take you up on anything!” Emil shouted. Mickey shut up. “I saw, like, seven seconds of that video the first time someone showed me, but I could tell you were really drunk in it, so I stopped watching. Figured it wasn’t something you wanted shared.”

Damn. He was such a decent person. Mickey was so doomed.

“Wait,” Mickey said. “So, you _haven’t_ seen it.” Emil shook his head. “But - but you’re always hanging around Sara.”

Emil shrugged. “Sure. She’s great. But I don’t want to date her.”

“You don’t?”

Emil took a step closer. “No, Mickey, I want to date _you_.”

Mickey flung himself at Emil. His stupid facial hair was softer than it looked against Mickey’s chin and cheeks.

Emil pulled away after a second. “Does this mean you want to date me too?”

“Yes, yes, shut up, we’re never speaking of this again,” Mickey said, and Emil laughed. Mickey shut him up.

Mickey fully planned to take his shame to the grave, but he hadn’t counted on Mila. “So you’re dating Emil,” she said, lounging on the wicker chair in his room.

“Yes. I have been dating Emil for some time now. Please leave me be, I have had a very trying and emotional morning, and I wish to nap.”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Whatever it is you’re not telling me.”

Mickey looked over at her. She crossed her legs and raised an eyebrow. He sighed and gave into the inevitable.

Mila laughed at him for a solid five minutes after he finished, tears running down her face. “Oh man,” she finally gasped. “Hold on, don’t go anywhere.” She ran out of the room and came back a minute later, Sara in tow. “Tell her,” Mila said, still gasping for air. “Tell her what you told me.”

“You are a devil woman, and I hope you never know peace,” Mickey said.

Sara looked at him and crossed her arms. “What’s going on? I was in the middle of a nap.”

Mickey could sympathize with her irritation. “Emil asked me out a few weeks ago, I assumed it was because he saw the video and was trying to ask _you_ out, turns out that’s not the case, we’re boyfriends now. Go nap, on behalf of those of us who can’t,” he finished, glaring at Mila, who burst into fresh laughter.

Sara blinked. “That is - what?”

“I’m not saying it again.”

Sara narrowed her eyes and looked at him. “Mickey, you know - there is so much wrong with this whole scenario, but you _do_ realize that I’ve been dating Mila for over a year, right?”

“What?” Mickey sat up. “No, I would have noticed.” Several incidents fell into place in Mickey’s memory. “Ohhhhhhhh.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “No wonder you didn’t realize you had a boyfriend for a solid month.” Mila let out another cackle behind her. Sara wrapped an arm around her shoulder and started moving her out of the room. “You better hope Emil’s into obliviousness,” she said. “I’m happy for you.” She shut the door.

Mickey sat with his thoughts for a few minutes, then dug out his phone. _Are you attracted to obliviousness in a partner?_ he texted Emil. Just to be safe. Apparently he couldn’t rely on his own judgement anymore.

 _Apparently_ , came the response, and then a kissy-face emoji.

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry with me on [Tumblr](http://thewalrus-said.tumblr.com), I'm starved for Emil/Mickey content.


End file.
